


Time

by clutchesofaname



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ashen Romance | Auspistice, Bulges and Nooks, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Sorry Not Sorry, it sort of fizzles out, the last one is brief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:49:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutchesofaname/pseuds/clutchesofaname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years have passed since Nepeta's initial crush on Karkat, and he's found himself waxing blacker and blacker for her. She thinks  they need an auspistice, but all they need is a brief argument and a makeout session to seal the deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                Time has a funny way of working.

                What once burned redder than any flushcrush had before had settled down into something more manageable, something less red. She no longer drew anything concerning the two of them, no longer daydreamed about being in his arms, rubbing her cheek against the neck of his sweater. She found herself thinking of him less and less. She matured a bit.  
                She had grown a few inches, grown her hair out a bit. The curls settled down. She found herself hiding less and less and getting out more. She grew closer to her friends, found herself laughing more. She didn’t watch his face to see how he’d react to a joke, didn’t search his face when he was preoccupied with something else.  
                Romances came and went, for the both of them.  
                She could finally see him for who he really was. He was a loudmouth. He swore a lot. He rarely left compliments and more often than not insulted his friends. He pushed people away.  
                He was a fucking know-it-all.  
                People went to him for relationship advice. She rolled her eyes when she heard others speaking of Karkat Vantas, the Great Romance King. When something went fantastically wrong, they assumed it was their fault, never mind his piss-poor advice. When advancement in any quadrant was made, he guessed it totally wrong; it was obvious that was a caliginous advance, not a red one. Really. And forget the other two quadrants- he had no business dabbling in either.  
                She sighed in annoyance as Eridan thanked him and walked away. Turning back to her drawing pad, she continued to scribble in shading. He leaned back in his chair with a content sigh, head drooping over the edge. His eyes widened in shock when he saw he wasn’t alone.  
                “Nepeta- didn’t see you there. How long have you been waiting?”  
                “I was here- wait, what do you mean waiting?” she asked, setting her pad down and looking over at him. He shrugged and wheeled around.  
                “I mean- why else would you be here? You came for advice, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. She sighed and went back to shading.  
                “I wouldn’t take romance advice from you if I could help it,” she said, erasing a corner of the page. He scoffed.  
                “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”  
                She shrugged, nonchalant. “It means whatever you think it means, Karkat,” she stated. He laughed, short and sharply.  
                “Please- I have a better track record than _you_ do when it comes to romance,” he said, leaning forward. “In case you haven’t noticed- I’ve had more relationships.” It was her turn to laugh, throaty and drawn out.  
                “Come on- your pathetic little attempts at dating? What I lack in quantity I make up for in quality. How long was your latest fling again? Long enough for her to realize it was a mistake before she got the hell out, right?”  
                That stung, and it showed in his face. He stood up, shoulders hunched and arms in the air. “Every master has some failures! And I suppose your little fling with Sollux was so amazing, right?”  
                “If you could call half a sweep a fling, then yes, it was a rather nice fling,” she said, closing her sketchpad and setting it aside. He snarled, teeth bared.  
                “Gog damn it- why can’t you get annoyed?! Is it impossible for it to happen?!”  
                “I won’t give you the satisfaction of seeing me annoyed,” she said, frustration beginning to show in her tone. “Maybe we’d get into fewer fights if you tried the same!”  
                “There we go- get annoyed with me!”  
                “Quit pressing my buttons,” she snapped, standing. He smirked, taking a few steps forward.  
                “You’re so mellow- it’s like you’ve lost the last sense of adventure you ever had. What happened to the mighty huntress?”  
                “She grew up! She grew up, lost her delusions and moved on,” she barked. “Maybe you should get out of the past and live in the present.”  
                “I _am_ living in the present! I was making a fucking observation,” he replied, a few feet from her. She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips.  
                “Whatever- I’m gonna go get Kanaya so we can talk about this,” she muttered, walking past him. He grabbed her arm; she yelped.

                “Hey! What are you doing?” she cried, arm flailing.

                “Forget Kanaya- we can settle this ourselves,” he muttered, nose-to-nose. She looked at him, confused. She didn’t move; a minute later he sighed.  
                “Nepeta, if you’re calling me dumb for being a ‘bad shipper’ then reevaluate everything you fucking know about it because _you can’t see when someone is black for you._ ”  
                Her eyes widened, stomach dropping about five feet. Shit. He _was_ right. She pressed her lips together, then opened her mouth. “And how are you so sure that I am black for you?”  
                He smirked; she rolled her eyes. “You haven’t run off for Kanaya yet, have you?”  
                “You’re sort of grabbing my arm, you arrogant _asshole_ ,” she snarled, flailing again.  
                “You’re black for me, admit it.”  
                “Shut up,” she snarled, grabbing his wrist with her free hand. She gripped it, smirking when his eyes widen in shock, when he yelps in pain.  
                “What the hell are you doing?” he cried, knees faltering. Her smirk only widened. She leaned down, letting go.  
                “Can’t you see when someone is black for you?” she purred, tone condescending. He only had a moment of victory before she grabbed his other wrist, repeating the process.  
                “I was- _shit!_ I was right!” he yelped, trying to smile through the pain. She smiled, shaking her head.  
                “Shut up and kiss me.”  
                “I can’t- you’re sort of grabbing my wrist!”  
                “If you really wanted it, you’d find a way,” she purred. He tugged his arm backwards, sending him on his back and her on top of him. After the shock of having been sent flying, she scowled at him. “Asshole!”  
                “I found a way,” he murmured, leaning up. She pressed her lips to his, eyes closing. For a moment they’re still. Then he moved his lips against hers; her grip faltered and he struggled free of her grasp. She inhaled shakily, tail curled against her legs. Damn him.  
                His lips were slightly chapped, either from a lack of moisture or an overabundance of gnawing on them. One hand moved to trail her nails along his neck; the other was propping herself up. He shivered, shifting beneath her. He hikes one leg over hers, one arm sweeping at her wrist. She fell on top of him; he took his moment to deepen the kiss.  
                She groaned, relaxing against him. Her tail danced at the hem of his shirt; his hands were on her lower back, feeling the knobs of the mechanical spine. Her tongue trailed along his lip; he groaned and pressed his lips to hers with a bit more force. She sat up, pulling him with her. Her teeth brushed his bottom lip; he groaned again. She smirked against his lips, tugging on it gently. He broke away to mouth at her neck; she shivered and whimpered before he bit down and sucked at the skin. Her fingers knotted in his shirt as she squirmed. He broke away suddenly, panting and staring at her.  
                “Damn you,” she gasped, fingers unknotting. Her fingers brushed over the mark on her neck; how the hell could she hide that? He licked his lips, then pressed them together.  
                “Kanaya can’t know.”  
                “Agreed.”


	2. That's So Dumb, I'm Not Even Surprised It Came From You

            Two weeks pass. Short, but passionate makeout sessions occur in many a closet. Kanaya is none the wiser. They’re careful about their marks; they’re careful about where they hold their makeout sessions. They’re extra careful about the looks they give each other in the hallways. No suspicion is raised.  
            That is, until Kanaya asks about where their auspicitism is leading. Nepeta shakes her head, mind clearing. Daydream time is over.  
            “Hell if I know, Kanaya,” Karkat says, fingers digging into the pillow he’s holding. Nepeta shrugs.

            “I don’t know either- I don’t have plans to kill him,” she says, expression bored. Kanaya raises an eyebrow.

            “What do you mean exactly, Nepeta?” she asks. “Did you have plans before?”  
            Nepeta nods a little too eagerly, eyes wide. Karkat is staring daggers at her. Kanaya isn’t dumb; she knows her quadrants. She knows if she’s lying, there isn’t any danger between two trolls, which means it’s simmered down to black or one of them has died.

            “Do you even see her? She could kill me if she had half a mind to- Gog knows what would happen if her temper got the better of her.”

            “Damn straight I could,” she pipes in, desperate to cover her ass.

            Kanaya shrugs. “That is a matter her moirail should be concerned with. A mild troll like Nepeta shouldn’t be experiencing violent urges.” Nepeta nods, eager for the change of subject.  
            After their session, when she’s en-route to her room for a much needed nap, Karkat catches up with her and wheels her around. “What the hell was that? Do you know-“

            “Slip of the tongue Karkat, relax,” she says, shrugging him off. “She doesn’t know.” He inhales sharply.  
            “Look, you don’t want to cross Kanaya. You don’t want her even thinking you’re turning on her in a quadrant. I have a plan-“

            She sighs, annoyed. “Why can’t we just tell her?”

            “Thanks for interrupting me. Anyway, the plan-“

            “Here’s an idea- tell. Her. The. Truth.”

            “That’s so dumb I’m not even shocked it came from you. If we wait it out for a few weeks, play at black advancements-“

            “Or we throw it out on the table right now that we’re black, have been black and thanks for helping us get to this point, bye-bye.”

            “Do you have no tact?” he whispers, scowling. She pushes him aside and continues walking to her room.  
            “Come on Karkat, you cornered me in the computer lab,” she says, reaching her door. She fumbles with the knob; sometimes it gets stuck, and this is one of those times. “If that’s not tactless, I don’t know what is.”  
            “I did not corner you- you were there, I was there, why not throw it out on the table?”  
            She opens her door, looking away to smirk up at him. “So I’m right after all- when are we telling Kanaya? I’m free after my nap,” she says, walking in the room. His eyes widen; he pulls at his hair and follows her in.  
            “Nepeta fucking Leijon I cannot believe you just did that,” he says. She shrugs her coat off and tosses it on the floor. Looking over to him, she plays at innocence, eyes wide and tail curling around her leg.  
            “I don’t know what you mean Karkat,” she says. “I was just saying that we need to tell Kanaya-“

            “And in a roundabout fucking way got me to agree. Congratulations, you succeeded. Do you want the medal for your accomplishment now or later?”  
            She walks over to him and pokes his chest. “I’ll take that medal when you grow a pair and tell her,” she says, pushing him backwards. “I have a catnap to take- go find her and tell her the truth,” she says, closing her door in his face. He growls, pissed and wondering what ever took him so long to notice her. Mastermind. Attractive. Pushes his buttons. Cunning.  
            What a bitch.


	3. Karezi Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terezi knows and laughs at Karkat. That's it. That's the chapter.

            Stalking down the hallway, he mutters under his breath. Cat-like bitch. Who does she think she is?! With her cunning, and her sly smirk. He can’t stand her! He can’t stay away. Why can’t he leave? Because he doesn’t want to.  
            He has a date with Terezi that day anyway, so it wasn’t like he could go find Kanaya and tell her, anyway. And if Nepeta was so hell-bent on her knowing, she could be there when they broke the news. They, as in, both of them, together, telling Kanaya, “Kanaya, we are black for each other and your services are no longer needed.” As if she is a maid or some shit.  
            He sighs, changing turtlenecks and shaking out his hair. Closing his door firmly behind him, he sets off in the direction of the library. Where they agreed to meet. At the same time. He can’t help but be excited about this- his flushcrush had become a matespritship, a very loving and caring one.  
            Not like Nepeta could say the same thing.  
            He sits down at a table, twiddling his thumbs and looking around. He’s early; he always is, no matter what he’s doing. Unless it’s with Nepeta. Tardiness pisses her off.  
            “Hey asshole, how early were you this time?” she asks, kissing his cheek and sitting across from him. He laughs, leaning his head on his hand.  
            “I wasn’t that early this time- only a few minutes,” he insists, taking her hands. She laughs, gripping his hands in her own.  
            “Did you know in some cultures it’s considered rude to be early? I could break things off for how rude you are with me,” she teases, enjoying feeling him tense momentarily. He shrugs it off, knowing it’s a joke.  
            “Did you know in some cultures you have my blessing to fuck off?” he asks, tone condescending. She cackles, head thrown back, swoop of her neck tantalizing- he comes back to reality as her head lowers.  
            “Gog Karkat, I’d be convinced you were black for me if that quadrant wasn’t already taken,” she sighs, shaking her head. She has him now. No one can keep a secret from Terezi Pyrope.  
            “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, ever so smooth. She lowers her glasses and pretends to look at him- her red eyes glint, crinkle under the weight of her smirk. It’s dramatic. It’s good for driving a point home.  
            “Really Karkat, you couldn’t be less subtle about it if you tried,” she says, pushing her glasses back up and shaking her head. “I mean- the closet? Near my room? At night? It’s like you were _begging_ for me to know. Come on Vantas, have some tact.”  
            His skin prickles, the conversation with Nepeta fresh in his mind. Swallowing, he sighs.  “Alright, we’re dabbling in a different quadrant. Tell me how this affects our relationship in any way?” he asks. She shrugs.  
            “I don’t know how it does- it shouldn’t, and doesn’t, but I had to know for certain. But you have a few things to explain. For instance- closets. At night. Why?”

            “We don’t- we want privacy,” he says. That much is true. Neither of them want it to be a public thing. But neither of them also want her to know. She smirks at him, eyebrow quirked.  
            “You don’t want? You don’t want it to be public?” She gasps. “I know what’s going on! You don’t want Kanaya finding out!” she stage-whispers, cackling. “I never thought you’d have it in you to try and snub Maryam. She’ll find out Karkat. She always does.”  
            “The only people who know are me, Nepeta, you, and maybe Musclehead. But the last one is doubtful since he thinks romance is disgusting,” he sighs. “I didn’t ask for a feelings jam with my matesprit- I just wanted a nice date, okay?”  
            She sighs, fun over. Damn. “Fine. But no closets, and we’re discussing this later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no smut in the first chapter, or the second, nor the third... I think we all know what comes next. Aha, bad pun. Not sorry.


	4. they diddly done do the do

                “Asshole,” she mutters against his lips. He smirks, opening his door and dragging them both in. She shuts it with a swift kick of her foot.  
                “I try, oh do I try,” he murmurs, lips dragging along her jaw. She whimpers somewhere in her throat, and he chuckles. He nibbles on the soft skin, relishing the hitching breath that follows. She grabs his wrists, guiding him towards the wall. Catching on, he flips them last-second, backing her against the wall. She hisses under her breath.  
                Pressing his lips to hers again, he effectively wiggles free from her grip. He grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head. She parts his lips with hers; she licks his lips. He groans, scooting one knee between her legs. She groans as she squirms; his smirk only grows.  
                “Arrogant,” she mutters. His other hand places itself on her thigh, dragging it across the rough material of her jeans. She moans; his stomach bottoms out and he finds himself at her neck again, desperately biting and licking.  
                Constantly swearing under her breath, she squirms again; his knee isn’t helping her growing arousal. He presses it further against her; the friction causes her to moan and squirm _more_. His finger hooks under the neck of her shirt and pulls it away, giving him access to more skin. Old marks wink up at him; he replaces them with new ones.  
                She wiggles her wrists, trying to escape his clutch if only for a second. She whispers his name as his grip tightens. She says it a bit louder, and again a third time. He looks up at her, eyebrow raised.  
                “I’m a little busy here,” he says. She rolls her eyes.  
                “Let go fur a second so I can get out of this coat.”  
                He releases her, clenching and unclenching his fist. She shrugs out of her coat, olive material pooling around her ankles. She kicks it aside and grabs his shoulders, pinning him against the wall.  
                “Oldest trick in the book,” she practically purrs. He squirms, heat flooding his cheeks. Damn it! She giggles and presses her lips to his neck, soft kisses grazing down, down, down, and to the edge of his turtleneck. She scoots it aside and bites down, right there, eating up his moans. Sweet spot. Smirk growing, she licks the spot. He sighs.  
                “Fucking hell.” She presses her body against his, quirking an eyebrow.  
                “Is Karkat enjoying this?” she purrs, hips gyrating against his. He moans, not quiet in the least. She presses her lips to his, vibrations ringing through her. His hands find her hips, scoot down, and find the hem of her shirt. He begins to pull it up; she stops his hands with hers, and he takes his chance to yet again flip their positions. He pins her by his hips, she squeaks and bites her lip, his hips twisting in just the right way.  
                “Nepeta seems to be enjoying this,” he groans, warm palms sliding up her comparably cool ribs. He smirks, fingers sliding between the material of her bra and skin, cupping her breasts. He squeezes them; she moans throatily, and with a firm grind to her hips she’s practically putty in his lap.  
                “Do you want this?” he groans near her ear. She bites her lip, hands on his hip, up his shirt, at his back—he asks again, and she rakes her fingers down his back. He throws his head back, breath hissing.  
                “I asked a question,” he growls. She bucks her hips into his; he bites his lip. He won’t moan. He won’t. He refuses. She bucks again; a moan pours from his lips. Her cheeks flood with heat; she tugs his sweater up, breathing out an order he’s too eager to follow. His fingers hook into her jeans, tugging them down as she slides a hand over his chest, pushing him backwards into a pile reserved for their ashen sessions.  
                He falls first; she follows, landing next to him rather than on top of him. She’s kicking her pants aside; they’re off, and in the next moment she’s pulled on top of him. His lips brush against hers. He rubs against her, the material of his pants being coated in a vaguely olive hue. She moans, back arching, and feebly rubs back, fingers hooking in his pants and tugging down desperately.  
                “I take it that’s my answer?” he chuckles. She snarls, swatting at his shoulder.  
                “I could put my clothes back on and walk out,” she threatens. He shakes his head and presses soft kisses to her throat.  
                “Sorry—won’t happen again— _oh fuck_ ,” he hisses, her hips twisting in a new direction and causing all sorts of trouble for him.  
                “Clothes. Off. Now,” she breathes, sitting up and scooting off. She shrugs out of her shirt as he undoes his pants, kicking them off. She pounces back on top of him, pulling his sweater off in a quick swoop and catching his lip between her teeth.  
                He growls, pushing her onto her back and sliding a hand down her underwear. She reels back, moaning into his mouth and straining to have his hand make contact. But his warm digits merely play around her, teasing her. Her bulge curls around his wrist; he gasps, slim fingers and wrist coated in a layer of genetic material in moments. She tugs his boxers down, squirming against him. “Take the hint Karkat,” she mutters.  
                “What was that?” he asks, a finger stroking her nook. She gasps, eyes wide before staring him down again, lust overtaking the venom in her gaze. He does so again, a finger pressing gently in before removing itself. He licks around it slowly, enjoying her obvious distress.  
                “Come on Karkat, just fuck me already,” she whimpers, cheeks burning in shame. Begging her kismesis for release? Pathetic. Desperate enough to resort to such measures. He smirks, thumbs hooking in her underwear.  
                “That’s it kitty,” he murmurs, bulge pressing against her nook. She keens, hips jerking forward; his hips jerk backwards. She hisses and threatens to leave if he doesn’t—

                She’s lost to the world; he presses into her, sparks dancing against his eyelids. _Fuck_ it was worth the agonizing wait. She clenches around him; he can feel her bulge dragging across his skin, looking for some sort of entrance. He moans throatily, hips slowly pressing forward, retracting, repeat. She shakily begins to move her hips in tandem with his.  
                She gropes herself through her bra; her fingers pinch the thin material and she’s gasping. He leans down, murmuring encouragement, good kitty, keep at it, make those sweet noises. She nods weakly; he cups one breast in his hand, squeezing gently.  
                His free hand is stroking her; his own nook aches for attention but damn, her sweet little pants and moans are too much to give up. He thrusts into her and she half-screams, half-moans. He takes this as his cue to do it again, and again; he refuses to stop for anything, she has to keep making those noises.  
                “Karkat, keep doing it, oh, please—“ she begs. He shivers and growls something, twisting his hand around her. She moans his name, and he speeds up, desperate for—

                “Karkat,” she pants, over and over. She’s tensing around him; her bulge is writhing in his hand. She gasps and breathes his name, something about being close and—

                She’s suddenly too tight around him, and her scream pierces his ears. He feels his stomach and crotch becoming warmer, and wetter, and he faintly hears a yell as a heat courses through him, followed by a distinct lighter-than-air feeling. He pants and gasps for a few moments before extracting himself and falling next to her. She gasps and licks her lips, still squirming.

 

                Fifteen minutes later, and not nearly as clean as he’d like, he’s walking down the hallway. His hair is fifty shades of fucked up; he’s pretty sure he’s walking with some form of a limp, and he doesn’t smell like him. He sighs and stops, turning to face the door.  
                Three terse knocks. He waits a few moments, shifting from foot to foot before it opens. Her eyes widen and her lips part; he holds up a hand and looks at her directly.

                “Nepeta and I will no longer need your services. Thank you, have a good day.”  
                He closes the door for her, turning around and walking back to his room. The sleeping Nepeta is still curled on the pile, a blanket covering her. He sighs and walks over to his drawers.

                He needs a shower and a good nap. But shower first. And not with her. He’s not ready for round two quite yet.

                Or round one with Maryam, for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the funny chapter name, I have a sneaking suspicion that part of the reason this has so many views is that oh my god, smut. Smutty smut. More than one chapter. Well, I was a tease. I'm not sorry about that. But it's finally here, and it's finally finished. I hope you enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> I was curious about what would happen if they both grew up and matured a little, and Nepeta took off her rose-colored Karkat glasses. Updates whenever, not a high-priority fic right now.


End file.
